


Ain't No Rest For The Wicked

by TiredandGay_GetOutof_myWay



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Dark Shiro (Voltron), Dark-ish Shiro tho, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, Happy Ending, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Langst, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, References to Drugs, Sugar Daddy, Sugar Daddy Shiro, Violence, platonic hance, reference to guns/ weapons, shance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 16:07:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13721223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TiredandGay_GetOutof_myWay/pseuds/TiredandGay_GetOutof_myWay
Summary: At 21, Lance McClain was a broke college student, swimming in student debt and unable to find a job.At 35, Takashi Shirogane was the CEO of one of the largest conglomerates in the country as well as a feared mob boss.How is it that this unlikely pair comes to know one another?





	Ain't No Rest For The Wicked

**Author's Note:**

> Yikes I haven’t updated any of my YOI fics in such a long time but I’ve had a bit of a need for some fucking Shance lately so here ya fuckin go~~

The grey hues in the sky seemed to shift into almost black as the clouds continued to pour down onto the world below them. Lance began to walk a bit more briskly as a particularly bitter wind whipped around him, ruffling his chocolate locks. He wrapped himself tighter into his army green jacket, a feeble attempt to protect himself from the harsh elements, as he tried to smooth his hair into its previously styled position. A violent shiver ran up his spine as the cold air began to nip at his now rain soaked through skinny jeans. They had been light blue in color before the water from above drenched them, turning them into the dark murky blue color they were now as they uncomfortably clung to his long legs. 

Lance didn’t mind really, or at least that would’ve been the case if his light grey Vans were not also completely soaked through, causing the young Cuban boy to visibly cringe with every step he took. 

Lance heaved out a sharp sigh and stuffed his hands deep into the depths of his jacket pockets and tried to think of the warm couch and thick blankets that awaited him at Hunk’s apartment. 

He decided to give up on taming his hair in this weather as the rain continued to soak every folocal on his head, most likely washing away any hair products he may have used earlier that morning in an attempt to look presentable for his job interview. Another strong gust of wind snapped at his face making his nose and cheeks feel numb from the cold air. 

As another shiver ripped through Lance’s body he pulled his phone out from one of his skinny jean pockets and began to mindlessly scroll through his Instagram feed in an attempt to pass the time as he walked through the day’s dreary atmosphere. 

It was the little things that Lance seemed to miss as he continued to stare down at the device in his shivering hands. 

He took no notice of the subtle sound of a bottle smashing a few alleyways in front of him as he double tapped on one of his friend’s latest posts. 

The laugh of a small group of drunken friends was silent to him as he continued his path while responding to a comment.

And although Lance was oblivious to the presence of this group they seemed to be anything but towards him as they saw the light brown skin of his face illuminated by his phone screen through the darkness of the day as he walked by them. 

It was then that the pair of footsteps behind him turned into three pairs that only got louder the closer they drew to a very unsuspecting Lance. 

Everything after that seemed to happen in a single second. 

There was first only a single hand firmly gripping his shoulder as Lance pocketed his phone and turned to the man whom he thought was trying to merely grab his attention. 

Then one hand became two as a different man behind him abruptly snatched at his thin waist. A shriek seemed to escape Lance at that moment, and just as he was about to turn and scream at the man behind him, a third hand clamped down over his mouth and held him in place. 

Lance’s eyes blew wide as dinner plates as he tried his damndest to thrash against the men attacking him. He tried his best to scream through the man’s hand as they began to drag him down a nearby alleyway. Lance began to try to bite down on the hand on his face but was unsuccessful in his attempts. 

The men eventually stopped a little further down the alley, and Lance could now make out that there was three of them. Two of them were on either side of Lance holding his arms as they pushed him up against the brick of the wall in the alley. The third one was behind Lance and had his hand still firmly clasped over his pleading mouth. 

Lance tried to squirm away from them as the man behind him pressed his body down onto Lance’s, pushing him further into the wall. He could feel the bricks cut into his face and the blood mixing with his tears as the man leaned impossibly closer to Lance, his free hand traveling up his wet shirt scratching and scraping at his now exposed skin. He knew that the men were talking, laughing, whispering about the things they planned to do to him, but the words they exchanged fell on deaf ears as Lance continued to focus on his struggle to somehow break away from them.

It was when one of the men’s hands began to grab at his thigh that Lance could feel all the blood drain from his face. He thrashed and kicked and screamed with every bit of power that he had inside of him. The men seemed to be angered by his actions, growing tired of the struggle, and attempted to hold down his legs to avoid him kicking them. While the man behind him tried to secure one of Lance’s legs his hand shifted down slightly on Lance’s face, giving the young Cuban boy’s teeth access to it. Lance wasted no time in clamping his pearly whites down on his attacker’s flesh. Strangely satisfied with the scream that came along with the bitter metallic taste now filling his mouth. The hand on his face completely disappeared then and Lance felt himself take in the biggest breathe that he ever has before screaming out at the top of his lungs. 

One of the men next to him let go of his arm only to punch Lance in the jaw in an effort to silence him. The impact caused him to fall to the wet concrete of the ground below him. Lance brought one of his hands up to cradle his throbbing face as one of the men’s feet met his ribcage at a harsh impact. The air was knocked out of Lance’s lungs as he sputtered and coughed out a bit of blood. As a last bitter attempt to get away, Lance began to crawl out of the alleyway as the men loomed over him. He could faintly hear one of them swearing about his hand, as a different man told him to shut up. He could just make out one of them laughing at him as he struggled to escape them. 

There was a hand roughly gripping his ankle and dragging him back to them, his shirt riding up between him and the ground as his skin was scraped along the cold coarse ground. Lance seemed to find his voice again as he begged for them to stop and get off of him as the hand on his ankle was released only to be replaced with the weight of one of them on top of him. There were hands all over him again, grabbing at his hands and legs forcing him to stay down. One of the men fisted his curly locks and rammed his head into the concrete underneath a few times until Lance seemed to stop talking. 

Lance could feel every inch of his body that they touched. There was blood and tears all down his face and all the cuts, scrapes and bruises that littered his form seemed to ache and throb to the same rhythm. Lance was tired, he wasn’t sure how much more he could struggle, he was barely even able to keep his eyes open in that moment. Just as he could hear the sound of his clothes ripping, giving way to his assailant’s insistent tugging, Lance heard a voice. Not one of theirs, no. But a different voice, a new voice that filled Lance with what he could only describe as pure and unfiltered relief. 

The hands and weight being forced upon him were suddenly gone and he could hear the sound of splashing as footsteps ran away through puddles in the concrete. Although there was nothing keeping him there on the cold, damp ground Lance found that he couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, so he just lay there, taking shallow breaths, trying to keep his eyes open and form some sort of a coherent thought. But nothing came to him as he lay still, and he could feel the adrenaline leave him and his exhaustion take over. 

As his eyes slipped closed Lance could feel a new set of hands grace him carefully as they lifted him up from the ground below. He could feel his limbs loosely sway back and forth as he was carried out of the alley and the last thing that Lance noticed before he completely slipped away was that it had stopped raining and the sun had finally broken out between the clouds. 

***

When Lance finally woke up he could hear a dull ringing in his ears before he even opened his eyes. As he did though, he was met with beams of bright light that were streaming through one of the biggest windows Lance has probably ever seen. He was forced to squint until his eyes could adjust to the room around him as he sat up from where he was previously asleep. Once he seemed to get used to the brightness of the room, he began to take in his surroundings and was left utterly speechless at the sight. 

He was currently sitting up in a lavish king sized bed, fitted with crisp, silky, white sheets, a velvety, deep burgundy comforter and decorated with pillows that felt like clouds. As Lance looked around more he noticed that the room itself seemed to be bigger than the entirety of Hunk’s apartment. Beyond the bed was a rich mahogany coffee table with a few dark brown leather-bound chairs around it in what appeared to be a small sitting area. There was a rug on the floor as well, swirling with intricate patterns and warm autumn colors of red, gold, and brown. Behind the sitting area were several bookcases that also appeared to be made out of mahogany. Each one was decorated with the multi-color spines of various pieces of literature. To the right of the bookcases was an open door to what Lance would assume was a bathroom. On the wall to the right of him, opposite the large window was a large, beautifully carved chest of drawers that seemed to match the rest of the wood fixtures in the room. Finally, there was another door next to the drawers, except this one was shut, and presumably led to outside of the luxurious room. 

As Lance moved to get out from under the covers and explore further into the mysterious yet eloquent room, events from the past few hours seemed to crash into him as his body ached and throbbed at the slightest movement he made. Lance groaned as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and planted his feet on the cold wood of the floor. He noticed then that the clothes that he wore were ones that he did not recognise. He was wearing only a black v-neck shirt that seemed to be two sizes too big and came down to his upper-mid thigh and the navy blue boxer briefs that he had put on earlier that morning. 

Lance lifted the loose material of the shirt that was draped over his form to investigate the deep aches and sharp pains that he felt. He was met with the many ugly, multi-colored bruises and bloodied scrapes that littered his chest. He also noticed that there were several bruises lining his arms, legs and even around his neck. Many of them took the shape of large handprints wrapping around him. 

Lance then glanced at the small clock on the bedside table next to him.  


4:15 pm

Lance was a little taken aback by the time that stared back at him on the clock’s face. 

Had he really been asleep for that long? 

Lance tried to remember what the time had been on his phone screen before… that happened. 

Lance got up from the side of the bed, wincing as he did so, and walked carefully over to stand in front of the large window that took up most of the wall. Now that he was in front of it he could see that they were actually sliding glass doors that led out onto a balcony. The view he was met with only seemed to add to the room’s beauty. The sun’s rays glistened off of the many wet rooftops of the city. The clouds now had more of a peachy-pink tint to them, a stark contrast to the ominous grey tones they held earlier. Although the sun’s light was blindingly bright, it was more of a warm orange color, signifying that the clock Lance had previously questioned was indeed correct in the time it had given him. 

Lance would’ve loved seeing something like this yesterday. The expensive decor of the room to the beautiful sunset. But now as he watched the sun’s flickering deep orange light on the many windows of the buildings below, Lance didn’t feel the warmth of it, he didn’t feel in awe of the many colors painting the sky. All Lance felt was anger towards the picturesque sky. He wondered how something could look so beautiful after appearing so dreary and broken. He wondered how a sky that had been so dull and so grey could appear to be one of the pinkest and prettiest skies he had ever seen in the same day. 

He felt like the sky itself was mocking him. 

It was in that moment that Lance’s eyes shifted to look at himself in the window pane’s reflection. The left side of his jaw was darkened by a large purple bruise and a little swelling. He also noticed that his lip was split on the same side, and now that he was aware of it he could taste the dried blood that lingered there in his mouth. Several other scrapes and cuts decorated his face. From his forehead, to his cheek bones, on the side of his face and a particularly long cut that went through his right eyebrow. His wounds seemed to be completely taken care of though. He had noticed it at first when he inspected his body. The random bandages and butterfly stitches that littered his skin alongside his bruises and shallow scrapes. 

Lance could then feel the confusion that he had been holding back wash over him completely. 

 

Where was he? 

 

Who was it that helped him earlier? 

 

Was this their house? 

 

Why didn’t they take him to the hospital?

 

Were they the one to treat his injuries?

 

Where were they? 

 

Where were his clothes? His cell phone? 

 

Just as Lance was about to pull his hair out from the frustration and confusion clouding his brain there was a small knock on the closed door on the opposite side of the room. He quickly turned away from the large glass doors and faced the wooden one, completely startled from his previous questioning thoughts. 

A few seconds passed before the door opened just enough to allow a man with bright orange hair and a mustache to match to poke his head into the room. His gaze went immediately to the bed in front of him only to find it empty, he then seemed to notice Lance standing not to far away from it and offered him a polite smile. 

“Ah, you’re awake! Just a moment.” confusion filled Lance once again as the orange haired man’s head disappeared from sight and the door shut once again. Not a second later though, the door was reopened by a different and very large man. Next to him the orange haired man stepped into the room, carrying a tray which held a small jug of water and a glass. 

Lance unconsciously took a few steps backwards to put some space between him and the large man holding the door, recalling the last time he encountered a man of that size not too long ago. 

Once the orange haired man was completely in the room the other larger man shut the door behind him, leaving the two men alone in the large space. 

The orange haired man gave Lance another small smile and walked over to the sitting area, placing the tray onto the coffee table. He then looked over at Lance by the glass doors again and gestured for him to have a seat with him. Lance approached him cautiously, his eyes never leaving the other man as he took a seat in the leather chair across from him. The orange haired man seemed to be pleased by this as he began to pour water from the jug into the glass and offered it to Lance. He smiled at him again, waiting for Lance to take the glass, his smile seemed more genuine this time, less forced. Lance took the glass from him, careful not to touch the other man’s hand as he did so. He tentatively brought it up to his lips and took a small sip, only now realising how sore his throat was. Probably from all the screaming. Lance didn’t want to think about it. 

After a few more seconds the orange haired man spoke again. 

“You’re probably wondering where you are, correct?”

Lance shot his eyes up from the glass he was holding back onto the man across from him. 

“..Yes, are you the man who-” Lance felt his breath catch in his throat. “Who helped me?” 

“Well I’m not the one who brought you here if that’s what you mean my boy, but I did patch you up all good as new.” Lance cringed a little at the man’s choice of words. 

“Well then who are you, and who did bring me here, and where even is here, where am I?” lance was beginning to feel his frustration reach its peak and the toll of the events of the day crash into him. He was confused and scared and tired, and he just wanted to go back to Hunk’s apartment, wrap himself in a blanket and stay there for the rest of his life. 

“Please, stay calm, my name is Coran. Have you ever heard of the company by the name of Shirogane Industries?”

Lance didn’t even have to think before nodding his head in response. Shirogane Industries was one of the biggest conglomerates in the nation, it was a stupid question really. 

“Well, I work for the founder, owner and CEO of Shirogane Industries, Mr. Shirogane himself, he was the one that brought you here, and this is his penthouse.” Both men were quiet for quite some time as Lance did his best to process that sort of information. 

“Why…?” Lance couldn’t seem to finish his question as he felt the answers he was being given were confusing him further. 

“Well, Mr. Shirogane strangely prefers the rainy weather over the sunshine so he was walking to his next meeting instead of taking his usual car this morning, and I suppose that was when he stumbled upon you.” Lance nodded, understanding the situation more. He looked back down at his glass and placed it back onto the tray on the coffee table between them. 

“Where are my clothes, and my phone, I need to call my friend.” Lance knew that Hunk was probably worried sick about him, he was suppose to be back at his apartment hours ago. 

“Unfortunately, all of your clothes were quite dirty and.. torn up, so Mr. Shirogane had them sent of to his tailor and dry cleaner to get them cleaned and fixed. As for your phone, the screen cracked and it also became quite wet due to the rain and no longer works. However, Mr. Shirogane wanted me to assure you that he will gladly replace it for you. In the meantime, you can use the penthouse phone to contact your friend.” He finished his explanation with a smile on his face as he gestured to the landline phone sitting on the wall near the bookcases that Lance had not noticed before.

Before Lance got up to use it he stopped himself, one question still racking his skull. 

“Why wasn’t I taken to the hospital? Why did he bring me back to his house?” 

“I am Mr. Shirogane’s private doctor as well as his personal butler, he most likely brought you here so that you would not have to worry about any medical expenses that a hospital would have charged you.” Lance was beginning to wonder why a stranger would go to such lengths to help him but he soon pushed that thought to the back of his mind, deciding to not look a gifted horse in the mouth. 

“Where is Mr. Shirogane now?” Lance inquired purely out of curiosity. 

“I believe that he is currently in a meeting, however, he told me to inform him when you wake up, so I will be calling him once I leave and he will most likely want to speak with you about the.. events that took place earlier.” Lance’s dulling confusion spiked. 

“And why is that exactly?” he questioned, his eyes narrowing at Coran.

“It’s not my place to say so. If you’ll excuse me I should probably be calling Mr. Shirogane now, feel free to use the penthouse phone to call your friend.” 

And just like that, Coran stood from his chair and made his way over to the door. He knocked on it twice before it opened to reveal the same large man as before, holding the door for Coran as he stepped out of the room. 

Once Lance was alone again he took a few moments to try to digest all of the information that was just thrown at him. In conclusion, he had no idea what to make of the situation, so instead of pondering over it further he got up from the leather chair and walked over to the landline by the bookcases. He wasted no time in dialing his friend’s number and was immediately met with a very worried Hunk’s voice asking him several questions that Lance had only gotten the answer to himself a few moments ago. 

Lance answered and reassured his friend, trying to word the events in a way that wouldn’t worry Hunk too much. Once Hunk was satisfied with the answers Lance gave and was positive that his friend was safe and that he would see him soon, they said their goodbyes and hung up. 

Lance knew that the half-assed explanations he gave Hunk would need to be clarified and discussed in more detail later with his friend, but he was grateful that Hunk didn’t pry too much and knew when Lance didn’t want to talk about something. He really was just looking forward to seeing his friend and being back in his cozy apartment after all of this. 

As for right now though, Lance was forced to sit and wait patiently for this ‘Mr. Shirogane’ to come and see him so that they could discuss what happened, whatever the hell that meant exactly. Lance would be lying however, if he said he wasn’t curious to meet the guy that helped him back there though. He wondered what he’d be like. 

He figured that it would probably be a little while until he would come so Lance made his way back over towards the large glass doors and watched as the sun slowly fell from view and the light of the day drained from the sky and turned into the dark of the night.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you sm for reading pls leave some comments/ kudos and lemme know what you think of the story so far, this will be a multi-chapter fic bc ya boi just doesn’t know when to stop, but pls take into consideration that I am currently a student so my updating schedule is mega fucked <33


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